Friends
by csiAngel
Summary: Post 2.10. "Did you not realise we'd become friends?"
1. Chapter 1

Title: Friends  
Author: csiAngel  
Rating: K+  
 **Spoilers: Set after 2.10, spoilers up to there.**  
Summary: "Did you not realise we'd become friends?"  
Disclaimer: I do not own Stitchers.  
A/N: I'm new to this show. I know they do not seem to be leaning towards this pairing, but I am. And this little ficlet would not leave me alone after I saw the s2 finale yesterday. It was originally just going to be the angst of the first part, but then, apparently, I couldn't stop there.

… … …

Fisher knocked on the door, as a courtesy, but didn't wait for a response before opening it and entering anyway.

Maggie looked up at him and immediately asked if Kirsten was okay. She had aimed for emotion-free professionalism but her eyes were red from crying and they were filled with a heart-wrenching sadness. That confirmed Fisher's – and the team's – suspicions that something was going on.

"Yeah, she's back. Ayo's checking her over now."

Relief washed over her but didn't alleviate the worry.

Fisher stepped further into the room as he also told her, "Linus had to go. He got a call from the hospital. Camille's gone with him."

She nodded but her features had quivered when he mentioned the hospital, and she looked like she was barely holding herself together. She probably wanted to be alone and so he probably should have left. But instead, he crossed in front of her, forcing her to turn her chair in order to continue to face him: An action that positioned her with her back to the lab – shielding whatever happened next from view of her team.

Once satisfied that they had as much privacy as they could achieve in a room with glass walls, he continued, "There was quite a commotion out there and you didn't even emerge. What's wrong?"

"I just had to make a phone call."

She was good. He had to admit that. Anyone else might have been convinced by her act – or fearful enough not to tell her that they weren't. But he had heard the crack in her voice and, whether she shared the sentiment or not, he cared about her. He wasn't going to pretend that she was fine.

"Maggie…" he implored, softly. "Talk to me."

Her initial response was to glare at him – though whatever was the cause of her pain took some of the force out of it.

"I know you don't like to bring your personal life into work, but it's just me. I'm not going to tell anyone… I'm worried about you."

"We have –"

Predicting where that next excuse was going, Fisher cut her off. "Cameron and Ayo are with Kirsten. Camille is with Linus… Everything can wait for a moment while you tell me what's going on."

She tried to maintain the glare and her hard exterior, but he could see her resolve wavering.

She resisted for another minute or so, and then her gaze drifted away from him, and landed on what turned out to be a photograph, lying face down, on her desk. She turned it over and Fisher saw the image of men in army attire.

She fixed her eyes on the picture as she explained, "My son, Ben, is deployed in Iraq… He was missing but they've… they've found him. That's what the phone call was."

That clearly wasn't the full story, because her reigning emotion was not relief. Fisher's heart clenched, dreading what could be coming next.

"He… He's in critical condition in a hospital in Baghdad. They can't- At the moment they can't predict whether or not he'll—"

Fisher swept forward as Maggie fought hard not to crumble. Crouching in front of her, he drew her attention to him.

"Maggie…" He waited until she had focused on him. "Go to Baghdad."

Tears spilled onto her cheeks, and Fisher longed to be able to take her pain away.

"He wouldn't want that."

"Maggie, you're his mom. Him waking up wanting to see you and you not being there would be so much worse than him waking up, not wanting to see you, but finding you there anyway."

"But if he doesn't want to—"

"Then you'll leave… It'll hurt; it'll be hard, but would it be worse than what you're currently feeling?"

The shake of her head was almost imperceptible.

"Okay. Grab whatever you need from here. You can make arrangements while I drive you home."

"I have my car."

"And you're in no state to drive it… No arguments."

He moved to stand, but Maggie's hand closed around his arm. "Fisher… What if he –" She couldn't give voice to the question.

He couldn't give her an answer to that; he couldn't reassure her that it wasn't going to happen; he couldn't promise that whatever happened she would be okay, because they both knew it was, sadly, a real possibility, and he had no idea where she would even start to cope with that.

"I know it's difficult, but try not to think about that."

She nodded, minutely, and squeezed his arm before they both stood up.

While he watched her try to focus on what she needed to take with her, his mind offered up pictures of her, on her own in Baghdad – if her son turned her away, or if the worse did happen. Maggie was strong, but how strong?

They left her office, and she took a little time to check on Kirsten and assure herself that she could leave them to carry on without her, and he used the time to figure out how else he could help her.

When they stepped into the elevator, he offered, "I could go with you."

She faced him with a frown.

"I won't intrude. I'll just… be there. In case you need a friend."

Her mouth opened as if to respond, but then closed again, without her uttering a word.

"Did you not realise we'd become friends?" he teased, hoping to lighten the mood at least for a second.

"I suspected we might have," she replied, softly, with a small, but grateful, smile. "I appreciate the offer. But I'd feel better knowing you were here with them while I'm not."

He understood her logic, but was finding that he couldn't bear the thought of her over there on her own. "I'd feel better if I was with you."

Her eyes widened and he realised she could have misinterpreted that statement. Then he realised she may have correctly interpreted it. He hadn't really thought about how he felt about Maggie, where this need to protect her had come from, and now _really_ wasn't the time to start. He just knew that he wanted to do everything in his power to make this less painful for her.

"I really do appreciate that," she told him, sensibly sidestepping any deeper meaning that may have been behind his words. "But I'll be okay. And they're going to need you."

"Okay," he agreed, reluctantly. "But you have to promise you'll call if you need me."

"I'll call."

"Thank you."

"Thank _you_."

He shrugged. "That's what friends are for."

… … …


	2. Chapter 2

Several months later…

Fisher was surprised to find that his unexpected visitor was Maggie. She smiled at him when he opened the door, and he was pleased to see her looking so relaxed. It had been a long road for her to get here.

"Hi," she greeted him.

"Hi… I thought you'd be spending time with Ben."

"He said I was fussing."

Fisher laughed. "He kicked you out."

She pouted. "He told me to 'go spend some time with a friend, or something'."

That made Fisher smile. Since the day she had found out Ben was in the hospital, she had gradually accepted that she and Fisher were friends. Luckily, she had not needed consoling in Baghdad, but she had called him anyway. And as Ben recovered and arrangements were made for him to return home, she had called him more often. Sometimes just for a distraction. Fisher was glad – not only that she was allowing him to support her, but that she didn't seem to have been scared away by his almost-admission of deeper feelings. He had thought about that since and realised that he was attracted to her, and that maybe he did wonder if they could have something more than friendship. He was willing to take whatever he could get though. And if she just needed a friend, then that was fine by him.

"So you came here."

"You're the only one I've got." That wasn't a maudlin statement. She grinned as she said it.

"You know that's not true."

"Well… You're the only one I wanted to spend time with."

"I'm flattered."

"The others are all couples and I didn't want to be a third wheel."

"Less flattered."

The insult was worth it to see her laugh.

"Have you eaten?" she asked him.

"Not yet. I was just considering my options."

"Can I buy you dinner? To say thank you."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'd like to… While I didn't _need_ your support, these last few months…"

"Of course not."

"… I'm grateful that I had it."

"Any time."

"So… dinner?"

"I have beer and takeout menus."

"Is that a 'no' or an offer to share?"

With a smile, he stepped back out of the doorway. "Come on in."

…

Several hours later…

Sitting beside Fisher on his couch, Maggie buried her head in her hands in embarrassment as she laughed. "I can't believe they told you that story. I was hoping they'd forgotten all about it."

"It's one of the only times they've seen you let your guard down. I doubt they'll ever forget it."

"I wish they would."

"If only they could see you now."

"Not a word! Or this never happens again."

"You're pretty confident that I'd choose dinner with you over a story to share with the others."

"Have I misread the situation?"

He knew she hadn't. He would choose dinner with her over absolutely anything else in a heartbeat. And he had a feeling she felt the same.

He locked his eyes onto hers and asked her, seriously, "Have I?"

Her expression sobering up a little, she told him, "I've really enjoyed tonight."

"So have I."

Deciding just to seize the moment, he rested his arm along the back of the couch and inched closer to her. But she placed her hand flat against his chest.

"We work together," she whispered.

"I noticed that."

"And I'm… 'x' number of years older than you," she said, with a small, sheepish smirk.

"I noticed that too," he smirked, back.

"Nice."

"Maggie, do either of those things matter?"

"Do they matter to you?"

"Am I currently leaning towards you with quite clear intentions?"

"I guess you are."

"Then what does that tell you?"

"That I should shut up."

And with that, the hand on his chest grabbed a fistful of shirt and she pulled him towards her.

THE END


End file.
